


A Spell of Solace

by genmitsu



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Light Angst, M/M, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 00:10:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17131322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genmitsu/pseuds/genmitsu
Summary: Jim works a solitary shift in the precinct when someone unexpected decides to pay him a visit.___The snow kept falling and falling, and it turned the whole of Gotham into some kind of arctic landscape - quiet, white, and surprisingly peaceful. The roads were more or less impassable, the only way to get anywhere was on foot. Jim’s let everyone go, manning the precinct by himself - it wasn’t likely that any crime would break out during this season, and even less likely that the GCPD would manage to get to the crime scene in time to stop the perps. Gotham was pacified, if only momentarily, by the quiet resolve of winter weather.





	A Spell of Solace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thekeyholder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Brigi! Hope this story cheers you up :)

 

 

The snow kept falling and falling, and it turned the whole of Gotham into some kind of arctic landscape - quiet, white, and surprisingly peaceful. The roads were more or less impassable, the only way to get anywhere was on foot. Jim’s let everyone go, manning the precinct by himself - it wasn’t likely that any crime would break out during this season, and even less likely that the GCPD would manage to get to the crime scene in time to stop the perps. Gotham was pacified, if only momentarily, by the quiet resolve of winter weather.

Jim walks around the precinct, grim even in this pre-Christmas atmosphere. Some of the officers put up decorations over the entrance, some baubles and tinsel, but it looked no more festive than usual. But, he huffs humourlessly, not like his home is better. That dingy apartment can’t be made festive - nor does he want to. He stopped caring about Christmas in his early teens, after losing his father, after learning that Christmas would never be the same. He went through the days perfunctorily, getting gifts for his mother and brother, sitting at the table, eating food, laughing even. When he stopped going back to his Mom’s for Christmas, the holiday lost its meaning for him completely.

Jim shrugs. Not like it’s any different from any other holiday. More of a chore - professionally too. Crime always rears its ugly head during holiday seasons, bringing out opportunists and madmen both. At least this Christmas might be calm, he thinks, going to make himself some coffee in the kitchen. No reason to rob a bank if you can’t get away with the spoils, and the tracks would hold for some time. It’s all going to be quiet. And he doesn’t even have to go home after his shift ends. Not like there’s anyone he’d like to celebrate with, no family, no lover - big surprise there, having driven away all possible candidates. There’s only Gotham for him, only criminals in his life. So he’ll just spend the evening here, catch some z’s on the small sofa in their break room, and then he’ll be ready for another day.

There’s a sudden draught chilling Jim’s feet and he hears the heavy doors being pushed open and then closing again with a loud bang. Jim walks out of the kitchen to check what’s happening there - and he’s completely taken aback to see Oswald leaning against the door, weak and panting heavily, all but covered in snow. He looks around, startled by the precinct’s emptiness, his eyes darting from here to there. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jim asks, walking towards him.

“Oh! Jim!” Oswald focuses on him at once, brightening up. “What a pleasant surprise.” He tries to say something else before a bout of cough stops him, and has to start over again. “My car’s stuck in the snow, won’t budge at all…” and he starts coughing again.

“That can wait,” Jim says and hands him his coffee mug. “Drink up. You gotta get warm.”

Oswald holds the mug uncertainly in his shivering hands, but takes a careful sip and he can’t hold back a sigh. “Oh. This hits the spot.”

“Yeah,” Jim gestures to his coat. “And this is getting you colder, not warmer, so take it off.”

Oswald tries to unbutton the coat with his clumsy gloved hand, fumbling, and Jim sighs, brushing his hand aside. “Let me,” he says gruffly, unfastening the stubborn buttons quickly. It’s not the way he’d have preferred to be undressing Oswald, he would have liked the way that involved kissing and touching and a lot more participation - from both of them. But… small mercies and all that.

“Come on,” Jim says, ushering Oswald into the break room, with its sofa and a blanket he took out for his own use, and he takes Oswald’s coat off to hang it on the hook and wraps him in that blanket instead, and Oswald immediately looks so much better - there’s some colour on his cheeks and he’s not shivering that violently anymore. Not stopping there, Jim tugs off his gloves too, and Oswald’s hands are red from the cold, barely warmed up by the coffee, so Jim rubs them gently, helping with circulation. Oswald is so bony and thin, he must be freezing even on the regular days, what’s to say about cold spells like these?

“Jim…” Oswald says, making Jim pause and look up - and how did he end up like that, kneeling in front of Oswald and warming up his hands, when he should’ve kept his distance and, well, locked him up, actually? But… this feels right. If there’s anyone Jim is genuinely glad to see, ever, it’s Oswald, with his smiles and his open fondness, despite his crimes and neverending ambitions. Something constant in this crazy city. Someone reliable, for better or for worse. Someone pretty like this, with his eyes always alive, alight with emotion in Jim’s presence, invigorating like a glass of wine.

“Better?” he asks him with a cocky smile.

“Yes,” Oswald nods. “Thank you, Jim.”

“Good,” Jim rises to flop on the sofa beside him. “How come you were driving in this dismal weather? That’s not like you to be this careless.”

“Just a small errand, that’s all,” Oswald says, hiding from Jim behind that mug of coffee and taking small sips again.

An errand, huh? Something important enough to drive Oswald out in this weather, alone… just what could be that important for him? Some crime, or is it a personal thing? Jim wants to ask those questions but something holds him back.

“And why are you here alone, Jim? Shouldn’t the precinct be manned by several of Gotham’s finest?” Oswald asks in turn.

“I’ve let everyone go. The holiday season and all, you know… and let’s face it, we’re not getting anywhere in this weather by cars, and it’s too dangerous to go by helicopters or blimps. No visibility,” Jim shrugs. “Better let the family people spend some time with their loved ones instead.”

“How sweet of you,” Oswald smiles softly. “But has no one volunteered to keep you company? Not even your partner?”

“Harvey? He’s mending things up with Scottie, and that’s good for him. She was always a good influence.” Good thing she’s back in Gotham again and willing to give Harvey another chance. He’s become a lot less grumpy since her return, and he’s looking better too. Healthier. Jim’s not the one to deny his friend a chance at better life, not after everything Harvey’s done for him.

“And so here you are. Jim Gordon, the last defender of Gotham,” Oswald teases him with a smile. Jim laughs.

“I could leave too,” he says. “I just… don’t want to.”

“Too much trouble,” Oswald offers, and Jim is grateful for the excuse, even though he’s certain that Oswald, with his usual perceptiveness, already knows his true reason. Jim glances at him sideways, that attentive gaze trained on him and making him suddenly sheepish. His stomach growls loudly then, startling them both and prompting Oswald to giggle. Jim finds he likes the sound.

“I’m gonna go reheat my lunch,” Jim says, rising to his feet. “It’s just some takeout Thai, but… maybe you want some?”

“I wouldn’t wish to impose,” Oswald begins, to be interrupted by his own stomach. He blushes to the tips of his ears. “But I suppose I have to,” he smiles. “Thank you, Jim.”

“No big deal,” Jim shrugs, beckoning him to follow into the kitchen. He takes out the boxes from the fridge, the Tom Yum soup and Pad Thai, and puts them into the microwave. “Soup, or noodles?” he asks Oswald after it pings and he proceeds to put them on the table.

“You choose, Jim, it’s your food,” Oswald waves him off with his hand.

“Come on, you’re my guest here,” Jim smiles. “Let me be a decent host.”

“Alright, um, soup then, thank you.”

“One Tom Yum for the gentleman in the blanket,” Jim says, pushing the box closer to Oswald. “And one Pad Thai for the cop,” he smiles, opening his own box. Oswald giggles again at his waiter imitation, and Jim decides he definitely likes that sound. Something a lot more approachable than usual, something with more of a chance… For what? For some consolation, some company? For something… else?

They eat in companionable silence, the hot food being a pleasure on its own, and it’s a much nicer meal than Jim’s had in months, really. Why is it always so remarkably  _ easy _ with Oswald, when they should’ve been at each other’s throats considering their positions? They’re always against one another, always opposing each other in this or that way, and yet there isn’t another person with whom Jim feels that at peace - as if he’s finding his balance through him, as if Oswald being his opposite is the exact reason for him to match Jim so well. And are the things they want really so different, Jim thinks, when they’re done with food and he makes them more coffee and adds some whiskey to it from Harvey’s secret stash - just a little bit to celebrate the season, that’s all.

Are they really destined to remain opponents? They want to make Gotham safer, take it under control, and their means are different, true, but… at this point Jim is willing to concede that the usual methods of the law just may not work in this mad city. Maybe he needs help to realize his goals. Maybe they can work together. Maybe even more.

He comes up to Oswald who’s standing near the window looking at the city. The snow keeps falling, softly, silently, painting the city whiter, making the lights seem ethereal, floating between the snowflakes like will-o’-the-wisps. It’s so quiet and peaceful. Can days in Gotham really be like that?

“Jim,” Oswald turns to him then, and somehow seeing him up close makes breath catch in Jim’s throat. “I’ve never been more happy to spend time at the precinct,” he smiles softly, “and especially with my favourite detective to keep me company.”

“Your favourite, huh?” Jim grins, stepping closer. “Is that why you’re always riling me up when we bump into each other?”

“I’m pretty sure you enjoy that,” Oswald cocks his eyebrow. “You wouldn’t be rising up to it so spectacularly if you didn’t.”

“Someone wasn’t taught not to pull the pigtails,” Jim takes another step towards him, wanting something - a rise, a different reaction? something, anything, an excuse to-- Oswald looks around, startled, as if looking for an escape from the situation he’s gotten himself into.

“Oh… mistletoe,” he breathes suddenly, looking up, and that has to be the excuse Jim was wishing for - so he crosses the distance left between them and puts his hands on Oswald’s shoulders tentatively.

“You know the rules,” Jim says, leaning closer, closer, and Oswald looks startled, and then he’s blushing - and then he closes his eyes, surging forward.

The kiss doesn’t feel like a first one. It’s somehow familiar, with the way their lips match and meld together, it’s a continuation of every fight and every talk they’ve ever had - only so much better, so much more intense, as if every little thing before has been building up to this moment, when Oswald is in his arms and kissing him with such passion Jim’s mind reels. It’s only logical that they end up touching each other more - it’s only natural they end up on that sofa again, Jim on his back, Oswald on top of him - all the better to reach for his neck and kiss it hard as he slides his hands all over Oswald’s back to rest them on his ass, and they can’t get enough of each other, having finally breached that last barrier between them. They grind into each other, something primal taking over as their hands meet over their cocks, fingers entwining, and the way Oswald’s moans reverberate through the precinct together with Jim’s is only making them both go faster, harder, chasing that release they’ve both been denying themselves for too long, and so it’s cathartic when it finally hits them.

They lie after, relaxed and content, that initial edge finally taken off, and Oswald fitting so snugly into Jim’s embrace. Jim strokes his hair gently, marveling at its softness. Oswald murmurs something into his neck and raises his head to kiss him on the lips before settling on his chest again.

“I wasn’t running an errand, Jim,” he says quietly. “I wanted to see you today so badly, if only for a little while… but you weren’t home. I’m glad I found you here.”

“You’re crazy,” Jim utters, tightening his embrace. What was he thinking, going out in this weather, only to see him? “You’re absolutely crazy,” he says again, pulling Oswald even closer and kissing his temple. “Don’t risk yourself for me. I’m not worth it.”

“You are,” Oswald objects, soft but resolute. “You’re always worth it to me.”

Jim pulls him into another kiss, trying to convey his thoughts through his actions instead. He can’t lose Oswald after finally having found the strength to admit he needed him this much. After they finally, too, have a chance at happiness. Who would’ve thought all it would take was some mistletoe, Jim thinks, as he lies back after the kiss again. His eyes drift to that fateful patch of decoration over the window, and… it’s not mistletoe at all. Just some green tinsel.

Well.

He’s not going to say anything about it.

  
  
  
  



End file.
